


The Newer Model

by JLMonroe1234



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano is also a little shit honestly, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Anakin Skywalker Whump, Anakin Skywalker is a Little Shit, Anakin loves Padme too much, Jedi Ahsoka Tano, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, POV Obi-Wan Kenobi, Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, but not romantic ones in this case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:01:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25521028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLMonroe1234/pseuds/JLMonroe1234
Summary: Jedi were supposed to be caring, selfless. But Anakin was just a child. A child who had been raised by a loving mother and then taken from her far too early. He needed to know he wasn’t alone, that someone still cared for him.“You need to do your duty as a healer, but you need to do your duty as a human being as well.” Something glinted in Obi-Wan’s vision, and he watched with his stomach in knots as the prosthetic arm was situated near Anakin’s severed limb and prepped for attachment. “Compassion. Always have compassion. Without it, we’re all just shells of what the Force intends for us to be.”_________A short collection of stories centered around Anakin, his prosthetic arm, and how it's affected his development as a Jedi and a mentor. Told from Obi-Wan's point of view.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala & Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 21
Kudos: 133





	1. Replacement

**Author's Note:**

> Lately I've been a major sucker for writing, like, anywhere from three to five short headcanons and posting them all at once. Not sure why. But here's another one about Anakin and his prosthetic arm because I feel like we need to talk about it more. Enjoy.
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: This work is an original by JLMonroe1234 and has been posted STRICTLY to AO3. If you see it duplicated on any other platforms, please let me know so appropriate action can be taken. Thank you!

Anakin’s prosthetic surgery was one of the hardest things Obi-Wan had ever had to watch. 

He didn’t _have_ to watch it, technically, but he felt obligated to. Like the teen needed someone else watching over him other than doctors and strangers in medical garb. He needed a friend, even if he wasn’t awake to know they were there. 

Obi-Wan demanded that he be in the operating room and was flat-out refused. No matter how much he begged and whined, no matter how much he told them that he _just wanted to see his Padawan, just wanted to make sure he was okay,_ they wouldn’t let him in. He was forced to the observation balcony, a room strategically positioned over the operating table that was completely encased in glass. It was usually for med students and other healing professionals, but an exception had been made for Obi-Wan to observe the surgery from there as long as he didn’t cause any trouble. 

The last thing he wanted was trouble. His Padawan was undergoing major surgery. He knew that getting a new arm would be hard for Anakin, would be a complicated process, but he didn’t realize quite how much work went into it. He almost shattered the glass and hopped into the room below when they started sawing away a few extra inches of Anakin’s arm, removing some of the bone from within but leaving the outer skin and what little muscle Obi-Wan could see mostly intact. A kind medical student noticed his unease and carefully explained to him that the base of the metal prosthesis would need to be anchored to the bone and muscle in his upper arm, so they had to make room for the internal bonding component. Hence the removal of a bit more arm. The outer prosthetic would start at the new suture line and end at his fingertips.

From just below his elbow and down, the arm would be metal. Mechanical joints, shining tendons. Maybe Obi-Wan would get him a glove. Something firm, to help him hold his lightsaber. 

It was likely going to be hard for Anakin to adjust. His right hand was his lightsaber hand, and having to re-learn all of his movements and techniques with a new limb would surely be frustrating. 

The med student also explained that they would be able to connect some of the major nerves in his arm to the prosthetic; they wouldn’t know exactly how much feeling he’d have until he woke up, but he would probably end up with some sort of sensation in all five fingers and a bit in his palm, if things went well. 

“He’s really quite lucky that it was a saber injury and not a machine accident or something. It was a clean sever, cauterizing the wound as it was inflicted. As far as limb amputation and prosthetic limb attachment goes, this was a best-case scenario.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but scoff. “Yes. My padawan losing one fourth of his limbs is a _best case scenario._ Of course it is.”

The med student stumbled forward and started waving her hands in the air, evidently stunned into silence. The poor girl looked like she was about to explode. 

Obi-Wan waved her off. “I’m not actually mad...just worried. And venting my frustrations. You can calm down, darling.”

“I-I’m sorry, sometimes I think too clinically. The instructors constantly preach to us about how, to do the job properly, we must separate ourselves from the patient. From their trauma. Look at them like a problem to be solved. I think I take it too far, sometimes.”

Obi-Wan released a deep sigh. His breath fogged up the viewing window glass and he quickly used the sleeve of his robe to wipe it away, lest it obstruct his view of the procedure below. “Your instructors are partially right.” 

The student tilted her head in question. Her stark white robes shifted on her shoulders, just a tad too big for her, but the intricate crown of braids sitting atop her head stayed perfectly still. She swept her hand out in a motion for him to continue speaking. 

“There does come a time, in any profession, when work is simply _work._ You must put your feelings aside and do your job to the best of your abilities.” Anakin’s face wasn’t visible from the observation balcony, most of him covered in sterile sheets and tubes of all sorts, but Obi-Wan imagined a nine year old Anakin down there, small and blonde and missing his mother. Wondering why it was him who was chosen to join the Order. Wondering why Obi-Wan treated him more like a project than a child. 

“But there comes a time when humanity must prevail. Because to anyone in pain, to any of your patients, they can’t separate themselves from the trauma. It’s all-consuming for them.” 

Obi-Wan paused to let himself process the memories flowing through him; one, in particular, in which he had decided to hug Anakin for the first time. It was after a particularly grueling training session and the boy was exhausted, emotional, and homesick. Obi-Wan didn’t speak up when he caught Anakin quickly wiping away tears with the sleeve of his padawan robes, or when he watched the boy wrap the linen of his clothes around his hands to soothe the blisters he’d developed from gripping his saber handle too hard.

Gathering the courage to step forward and take the child into his arms had been nothing short of excruciating, but he knew he’d made the right choice when Anakin latched onto him like a leech and refused to let go. The poor boy was touch starved, desperately in need of basic human affection. Affection that Obi-Wan had deprived him of for ages. Jedi were supposed to be caring, selfless. But Anakin was just a child. A child who had been raised by a loving mother and then taken from her far too early. He needed to know he wasn’t alone, that someone still cared for him. 

“You need to do your duty as a healer, but you need to do your duty as a human being as well.” Something glinted in Obi-Wan’s vision, and he watched with his stomach in knots as the prosthetic arm was situated near Anakin’s severed limb and prepped for attachment. “ _Compassion._ Always have compassion. Without it, we’re all just shells of what the Force intends for us to be.” 


	2. Too Heavy

“It’s too heavy.” 

Anakin and Obi-Wan were slowly strolling from the medical wing to Anakin’s living quarters. He’d just been given instructions for cleaning his sutures and discharged by his Healer. The healer said he could return to usual daily life, but he was forbidden from doing any training that involved his right arm for at least a few weeks. Physical therapy with the new prosthetic would begin tomorrow at sunrise. _“We want to focus on getting full mobility and use of the limb back before you throw yourself into combat,”_ the healer had said. “ _You Jedi do admirable work, but that work will have to cease if you want to recover.”_

“The healer said it’s perfectly balanced. It should be the exact same weight as your other arm.” 

Anakin had his new limb tucked carefully into the sleeve of his wrinkled robes, trying his best to keep the appendage hidden despite the fact that the two of them had yet to pass anyone else in the halls. “But I know it’s _not_ my arm, and it makes it _seem_ heavier. Am I supposed to just accept it, that my own flesh and bone has been replaced with machinery?” 

A temple library attendant appeared around a nearby corner, obviously focused on the documents in her hands and not the two Jedi walking toward her, but Anakin quickly tugged the right sleeve of his robe down farther as she approached. He didn’t relax until she’d disappeared down the corridor. The silvery tips of his new fingers peaked out from beneath the hem. 

“You’re alive, Anakin, after facing one of the most formidable Sith we’ve encountered. And you did it on your own. A limb is a small price to pay.” 

“If you say so, Master.” 

The fresher in Anakin’s living quarters was squeaky clean, the lack of dirt or rumpled robes on the ground a result of his and his Master’s absence from the temple in recent months. Conflicts in outer sectors had the two of them off-world more often than they’d like, so their rooms really had no chance to become untidy. 

Anakin had immediately taken a seat on his mediation mat the second he entered the room, crossing his legs and shutting his eyes. His shoulders were pushed back, spine tall, but Obi-Wan knew he wasn’t meditating to connect to the force after a week of little to no use - he was trying to expel his pain. 

“It won’t work,” Obi-Wan said, returning from the fresher with arms full of first aid supplies and sitting directly next to him on the floor. “You cannot simply take what you want from the force, or bend it to your will for your own benefit. Your intentions must be pure.” 

Anakin opened one eye and aimed it at Obi-Wan. The older man wasn’t paying attention, though, his focus on the bottle of wound cleanser and the now-wet cloth in his hands. 

“Is the wish to not be in pain not pure enough?” 

Obi-Wan managed a small smile. “I guess trying never hurt anyone.” 

Anakin offered his Master his new arm. Obi-Wan rolled Anakin’s robe sleeve up so it rested just above the beginning of the prosthetic. He gently ran the moist cloth over the seam where skin met metal, and Anakin bit back a grunt of pain. “I don’t know, Master. I really tried in that fight with Dooku, and I must say, this hurts a lot.” 


	3. Fresh Water

Obi-Wan had absolutely no idea why Yoda assigned Anakin a Padawan. 

From what he’d seen, from the apparent level of Anakin’s maturity and impulse control, he was not ready to take on any sort of a student. 

The boy from Tatooine was still a student himself, really, in every sense except for his official title. He was an extremely powerful Jedi with the stubbornness of a bantha, that was for certain, but he had leagues to go in the humility and obedience department. A good Jedi knew when to step back, observe the situation at hand, and follow orders. Anakin’s common sense was sorely lacking, had been for years. He could barely follow orders well enough to keep himself alive. How did anyone expect him to be responsible enough to be in charge of a child? 

Obi-Wan didn’t confront Yoda, just let things run their course. The Jedi Master would soon realize that he’d made a mistake, that poor padawan Ahsoka Tano needed to be placed with someone more level-headed. Anakin didn’t even _want_ a padawan. He was far too busy blowing things up and running head first into trouble. Teaching had no place in his Anarchy-based schedule.

But for some strange reason unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, Ahsoka was actively listening to and responding to Anakin’s...unique teaching style. She saw his impulsivity as bravery. To her, his seemingly sporadic movements were quick-thinking in the face of uncertainty. Obi-Wan could see the admiration on her face every time one of his whacky battle maneuvers was successful. He was her brother. An annoying, temperamental brother, but one that she looked up to and respected. 

Their Jedi lives were heavily intertwined, but both of their pasts remained secrets for some time. Discovered by Plo Koon at the age of three and raised in the ways of the Jedi, the religion and its traditions were all she’d ever known. Anakin’s own past, a past wrought with slavery and sand and tragedy, had never exactly been worn on his sleeve. The few people that truly knew where he’d come from and how he’d entered the Order were either dead or close enough to him to realize that talking about it only upset him. 

Ahsoka must have figured as much, because she never pried. Didn’t even ask about the events that occurred during his time as a padawan under Obi-Wan’s instruction. Just asked about battle strategy, whether he’d had good luck with certain tactics or plans in the past. Asked for his help with her saber fighting footwork. He was happy to oblige, always sharing his valuable insight and giving genuine tips for improvement (with a bit of dramatic Anakin flare, of course). 

There was one particular mission, though, when their sibling-like relationship involved more bickering than giving advice. 

Obi-Wan had elected to stay quiet for most of their journey, hoping the two of them would fight it out and get over whatever petty thing was bothering them. They’d been trudging through the mucky landscape of an unnamed Outer rim planet for almost a full day in search of a downed Star Destroyer- a Destroyer rumored to be carrying valuable information regarding the coordinates of the rest of the fleet. 

“Ahsoka, you need to keep up. There could be unfriendlies anywhere.”

“I’m right behind you, Master.”

“You’re not. I can feel you lagging behind.”

“I’m not!”

“Are so!”

Ahsoka scoffed, a rare show of attitude directed at her Master. “Would you blame me if I _was_ lagging? You had me saber training all night!”

“This is war. Expect to be exhausted from here on out.”

“Oh my stars, Sky Guy, you are insuffera- _agh!”_

Suddenly the three of them were submerged to the neck in slodge, a dark blue mud-like liquid found in the bogs of the unnamed planet. There were deep pools of the stuff everywhere. They could be avoided if one traveled with care and caution, but between Anakin and Ahsoka’s fighting and Obi-Wan’s interest in the kerfuffle, no one was watching the ground enough to miss this particular batch. 

Anakin broke the surface of the bog and began spitting bits of it out of his mouth. “Great, Ahsoka, now we’re filthy.”

“You’re blaming this on _me?”_

“Alright, you two, that is quite enough. I am fed up with your childish bickering.” 

Even Anakin was at a loss for words. Both him and Ahsoka were staring at Obi-Wan, his own hair coated in slodge and lips pursed in frustration. “Thanks to you, we’re all coated in filth. This trip is sure to be about 120% more miserable and ultimately less successful if we’re all stuck like this. Ahsoka, travel about a click in all directions and find us a nearby place to camp for the evening. It'll be dark soon. Anakin, you do the same, but your goal is fresh water. A stream or small river, preferably. Bog water isn’t fresh, we need something drinkable. And somewhere we can clean ourselves off. Do you two understand what you're meant to do?”

Ahsoka was already out of the bog pit and swiping the slodge off her arms and face. “Yes, Master Kenobi.” She trudged off northward, likely using that as the starting point for her search circle. Anakin was standing to the side and shaking the slodge out of his hair. He was using the fingers of his left hand to comb through the knots. His right arm was hanging limp by his side, fingers and wrist twitching just sporadically enough for Obi-Wan to realize that Anakin’s mechanical hand was malfunctioning. But Anakin hadn’t mentioned it, so Obi-Wan opted to let his former padawan deal with it on his own. 

“Go find fresh water, Anakin. There should be some close by. If there’s anything this place is good for, it’s having water sources.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And let Ahsoka know when you find something.”

“Of course, Master. Though, I think the slodge may have ruined the comms.”

“An old-fashioned talk will do the trick, then.”

“Right.”

An hour or so later the three of them had set up a ramshackle camp a few hundred yards from a sizable freshwater stream. Ahsoka, who had just returned from rinsing off in the stream, was walking back toward her spot around the campfire just as Obi-Wan was removing the robe he’d had over his shirt and pants. 

Ahsoka stopped in her tracks. The drinking water she’d collected in a hollowed-out piece of tree bark was dangerously close to tipping. “Huh.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrow shot upward. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ahsoka stalled for a moment, eyes surveying the camp before she set the water down and took a seat on a log. “You’re just...always in your robes. Always so put together. It’s odd seeing you dressed like an average citizen.”

“A simple tunic and pants makes me _average?”_

“No, Master, that’s not what I meant-”

“You can calm down, young one, I’m simply messing with you.” 

Ahsoka breathed a sigh of relief. “You and Master Skywalker. Always giving me such a hard time.”

“Well, who else is going to do it? Somebody’s got to humble you.”

“Humble _me?”_ She looked genuinely offended. As she stood from her log to protest, Obi-Wan noticed that she’d missed a bit of slodge between her lekku. “I’m perfectly humble!”

Ahsoka had done a lot of maturing since she’d officially become a padawan and Anakin had taken over training her. She’d grown physically and mentally into a respectable young woman. But the bits of dirt left on her, the way her blue eyes were wide and the outward, open positioning of her arms all made her seem years younger. Like she was a child in Jedi training again, just learning the wonders of the Force and still full of wonder and hope for change. It was refreshing. 

Obi-Wan looked past her shoulder and noticed a dark form making its way to camp from the stream. Something metallic shone in the evening light, a stark contrast against the silhouette that was carrying it. 

“Speaking of _perfectly humble_ ,” Obi-Wan said as Anakin finally came into view. He’d taken off the leather layer of his outer robes as well as both of his gloves and boots. His linen robes, still sopping wet from him rinsing the slodge off them, swamped his slender form. For a moment Obi-Wan was painfully reminded of the innocent child he’d found in slavery on Tattooine, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

But the nostalgia was gone as soon as Anakin’s prosthetic hand came into view. 

The younger Anakin had not fought such unforgiving battles. 

The hand was always beneath a glove, the reason he’d begun wearing the gloves in the first place. He would never admit it, but Obi-Wan knew he kept it covered because he felt like it made him seem weak. Defective. Defeated. Obi-Wan himself hadn’t seen it out in the open since the operation. 

Ahsoka turned toward Anakin and took a step forward. “Master, I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. I shouldn’t have been so quick...quick to anger...uh…”

Ahsoka seemed to have taken notice of the arm as well. The way her mouth was agape made Obi-Wan realize she’d likely never seen it before. 

Anakin was absolutely oblivious to her surprise, eyes still focused on his arm. He watched his hand as each of his main finger joints moved in turn, but when they completed their circuit and moved onto the thumb and wrist, the mechanisms stayed still. “Ugh. Must not have cleared all the slodge. I’ll have to rinse it again.”

“You- _you have a metal arm?”_

Anakin looked up at her like he hadn’t realized she was there. “Uh, yeah?”

“You sound like you’re not sure, Anakin,” Obi-Wan noted. 

“I mean, yeah, I do. Did you not know?”

Ahsoka crossed her arms. “Well, no. You never told me.”

“Why did you think I wore gloves every day?”

“I don’t know, you have an eclectic fashion sense?”

“Metal palms are _terrible_ for gripping lightsabers,” Obi-Wan said nonchalantly, like it was just common sense. 

Anakin ignored him. Like usual. “Well sorry Snips, I didn’t realize it would be such a surprise.”

“I mean, how did it _happen?”_

A visible shadow fell over Anakin’s face. Obi-Wan could practically see the ghosts of Battle’s past in the way Anakin lifted his arm gingerly, like the wound was still fresh. Like the red blade of Dooku’s lightsaber was flashing before his eyes and soaring directly through flesh and bone. “I was foolish. Rushed into a battle I didn’t have the discipline or experience to win.”

Obi-Wan could tell Ahsoka wanted to ask more questions by the way she kept opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. But Anakin was done with his explanation, attention focused back on the hand and picking the drying slodge out of its joints. The tension that had been present moments before had dissipated, though, and Anakin smirked in Ahsoka’s direction. The boy really couldn’t take anything seriously for more than thirty seconds. “That’s your lesson for today. Next time you pick a fight with me, you’re losing a hand.”

“Hey! Not funny, SkyGuy!”

“I’m the one missing a hand and I thought it was _hilarious.”_

The flames of the campfire sparked and rose with a sudden gust of wind. The edge of Anakin’s robe, too close to the blaze, caught slightly. The still-wet fabric didn’t ignite, though, just smoked dangerously. Anakin took a quick step back and slapped his hand against the charred spot several times.

“Anakin, you’re a childish buffoon, and Ahsoka, I’m so sorry you have to deal with him.”

Ahsoka threw the back of her hand against her forehead and sighed like she was in distress. She was surprisingly good at looking exhausted and exasperated all at once. She must have been hanging around Padme; the “ _I simply cannot handle any more dumbasses”_ facial expression was quite familiar. “How ever shall I become a proper Jedi when my Master is only three-fourths of the man he should be?”

“Oh, that is _it!_ Come here, I’m throwing you in the stream. Or the fire. I haven’t decided.”

“You wouldn't dare!”

“You think? I don’t know, I want to toss you in pretty badly. At least, all three-fourths of me does-”

“Oh, shut up-”


	4. A Light in the Force

“You’re hesitating.”

“You told me hesitation was smart.”

“It is. Sometimes. When you have  _ time  _ to hesitate and plan your next move. Hand-to-hand combat is not that time.”

“If I’m not supposed to plan, what am I supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to  _ react _ !” Without warning Anakin swung his lightsaber down and over Ahsoka’s head. He had no intention of hurting her; common sense and the Force told Obi-Wan as much. He was only trying to scare her. It worked tremendously well; her lightsaber was out and blocking Anakin’s in an instant. But the way her chest rapidly rose and fell gave away that beneath her seemingly sure reflexes, she was startled and acting on instinct alone. “ _ Why would you do that _ ?”

Obi-Wan liked to stop by and observe Anakin’s training sessions with Ahsoka. It was interesting seeing how his padawan’s skill had evolved, how it translated into his own form of teaching. Anakin still carried some of Obi-Wan’s lessons with him. It was obvious in several of his defensive stances and the hard set of his shoulders and torso, both tips Obi-Wan had given him regarding how to maintain control and balance when defending yourself. 

But Anakin’s offensive moves were a breed all their own. Where Obi-Wan liked to focus on precision and speed, Anakin practiced power and unpredictability. His actions were all about asserting dominance and controlling the situation through physical force. He started fights with his saber down and slightly to his side, usually fooling opponents into thinking he was off his guard. That he was being careless, even. They didn’t realize that starting low gave him time to build up momentum for a bone-rattling saber strike, or that the entire time he was jumping into action, he was reading his opponent’s body language. Their reactions to his sporadic style. Having his own significant Force strength and the element of surprise game him a noticeable advantage against almost anyone. 

He also had instincts like nothing Obi-Wan had ever seen. Obi-Wan himself had spacial awareness better than that of the average man; most Jedi did. But Anakin’s ability to know his enemy’s intentions and predict events was something else entirely. It’s what made him such a successful podracer when he was a child; he could sense every obstacle, every other racer. He used the Force like a sand sifter, shaking out all unnecessary data and focusing on the information that would bring him the greatest reward. 

“Never let your guard down, Ahsoka. Next time, someone much less nice than me is going to finish the swing.”

“So what’s the lesson, then? React instead of hesitate? Or never let my guard down?”

Anakin swung again, this time wielding his saber one-handed and aiming for Ahsoka’s torso, but she’d been expecting him to make another move and blocked it with ease. 

“Both,” he said. 

“You’re insufferable,” she said, taking a shot of her own. 

Anakin parried. “And you’re not hesitating anymore. Very good.”

Obi-Wan made his way to one of the several meditation mats laid out in the training arena. These particular mats were hardly ever used - no one wanted to try and meditate in one of the noisiest rooms in the temple. But the sound of Anakin and Ahsoka sparring in the background was more white noise than a distraction to Obi-Wan. Them, their breathing, their shouts of surprise, effort, and victory all blended together into the sounds of home. Of Obi-Wan’s family. Given the right circumstances, their presence could be quite relaxing. 

The sparring picked up in pace and Obi-Wan settled in for the time being, carefully lowering himself to his knees and placing his palms on the tops of his thighs. The sound of lightsabers buzzing against one another drew the force to him, bent it around him and filled him like life itself. 

The sound of the training arena door opening and clicking shut made its way into Obi-Wan’s subconscious, followed by a distinct lack of lightsabers swinging through the air. Obi-Wan didn’t open his eyes, though, because he knew who’d entered. Padme Amidala was now in the room, her force signature bright despite not being a force-sensitive herself. She’d likely come on the pretense of political business to spend some time with Anakin. Obi-Wan knew they were trying to hide their relationship, but anyone who had seen them within several clicks of one another would know that the chemistry between them was not at all platonic. 

Obi-Wan elected to ignore it most of the time. As long as Anakin wasn’t neglecting his duties as a Jedi or as a teacher, there was no reason to rip him away from the woman he loved. So they got to have their fun, and Obi-Wan got to see his padawan happy. It was a win-win. 

Obi-Wan zoned in on Padme’s signature, then on Anakin’s, pulsing and reaching for hers all of its own accord. But then something shifted in his mind, another life signature, and Obi-Wan cleared his throat before readjusting his seating position. He was losing focus. 

Suddenly Anakin’s force signature grew and sizzled like fresh catch on a grill, and the other life force Obi-Wan had tried to ignore sprung into being. The change in energy was so abrupt that he lost his grip on meditation completely and was on his feet before he could process it, re-attuned to the environment around him. 

Padme screamed. Ahsoka looked like she was about to break down, maybe pass out. 

Anakin was standing where he'd been for the last several minutes, directly in front of Padme. But the deactivated lightsaber he’d been holding while he spoke to her had been haphazardly dropped to the sparring mat below.

Obi-Wan surged forward and around Ahsoka’s panicking form to assess the situation. 

“I’m so sorry, Master, I thought you heard me coming! Karabast! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

The air wreaked of burnt metal and heated leather. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes were drawn to the small tendrils of smoke rising from Anakin’s right arm. The linen sleeve of his robes had been severed half-way down the forearm, the top of his buckled leather glove destroyed with it. 

The worst of the damage was to the metal hand beneath the singed fabric. The appendage itself was hanging on by only a few artificial tendons, the major structural elements and false nerves all severed by Ahsoka’s lightsaber. Nothing was sparking, thank the Force, because the lightsaber had soldered and fused all of the severed wires as it passed through. 

Obi-Wan was acutely aware of the way Anakin’s breathing was picking up in pace. The arm wasn’t real, didn’t have as many nerve endings as a flesh limb, but Anakin could still feel with it.He could sense cold, heat. Feel pain. He was probably in a tremendous amount of pain. 

Ahsoka was still freaking out in the background, hurriedly explaining herself and her actions to no one in particular. “He was holding his lightsaber! I only went for that hand because he  _ had  _ the saber and I  _ knew  _ he’d be able to defend himself, he told me to never let my guard down, I thought it would be a joke, but it  _ wasn’t  _ a joke, now his hand is almost gone, oh my  _ Force-” _

Obi-Wan turned to Anakin’s padawan and placed both of his hands on the sides of her face. “Ahsoka. Ahsoka! That’s not important right now. Please calm yourself. Your unease isn’t helping.”

One of the finger’s of Anakin’s dangling hand twitched mindlessly. Both Ahsoka and Padme choked back a sob. 

Obi-Wan turned from Ahsoka to Padme. “The medical center. Please take him there.  _ Now _ . I’ll be right behind you. Tell the healers what happened.”

“Y-Yes, of course, Master Kenobi.”

Padme placed a gentle hand on Anakin’s back and curled in close to him, slowly trying to ease him into motion. Over the shuffling of Anakin’s boots on the sparring mat, Obi-Wan could just hear Padme whisper, “ _ Can you walk, my love? We need to get you help.” _

The Senator and Jedi made it out of the training room and the door shut swiftly behind them, leaving Obi-Wan with a quickly deteriorating padawan. 

“I’m gonna get transferred, aren’t I? He’s going to send me to someone else. But I don’t  _ want  _ to be trained by anyone else. I want  _ him.  _ What have I done?”

“Sit, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka only blinked at him, short breaths being quickly released between parted lips. Her eyes were wide as saucers. “ _ Sit,”  _ Obi-Wan said again, “On your knees. Meditate with me.”

“Master Kenobi, is this really the time-”

“This is exactly the time. Now, silence.”

Hesitantly but obediently, Ahsoka lowered herself to her knees with Obi-Wan. The two of them sat directly in front of one another. Despite the careful placement of her hands on the tops of her legs and her perfectly straightened spine, uncertainty and worry was rolling off of her in waves throughout the Force. 

“Close your eyes. Evaluate your actions.”

Ahsoka closed her eyes as directed, but didn’t look entirely happy about it. “I already have. They were brash and unacceptable.”

“Ahsoka, if you interrupt me one more time, I will personally see to it that you clean the bantha stables next time we go to an Outer Rim territory.”

“M-My apologies, Master. Please continue.”

Obi-Wan integrated his mind into the Force’s current. He found Ahsoka’s own consciousness within and wrapped his around hers, just enough to ground her but not enough to make her think he was trying to coddle her. “Think back on your actions. Your planning. Why you chose to make the moves you did.”

“O-Okay.”

“Now think about the status of the Force just before you moved. Where the life signatures were in the room. How each one of them felt.”

There was momentary silence. “Explain it to me,” Obi-Wan said. “Slowly.”

“Um, okay. Yeah. I could feel you in the meditation area. You were really focused, not totally connected with the physical plain, more in touch with the Force than with your surroundings.”

“Very good. Continue.”

“I was there, in the middle of the mat. Padme had just walked into the room and I was waiting for her and Anakin to finish talking so we could go back to sparring.”

“Don’t tell me about Padme. Tell me about  _ her _ , her presence.”

“She- she was warm. She always feels warm in the Force. Like a light.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “Indeed. Quite a light, she is. Go on.”

“Anakin felt how he always does- present, bold. Powerful. A little scary, if you look too closely. So much Force manipulation in one being.”

“Did you notice anything else about his Force presence?”

Ahsoka’s brow furrowed. “No, not that I can recall- wait! Yes, there was something else. I never notice it unless Padme’s around. It’s...It’s a light.  _ Padme’s _ light.”

Ahsoka finally opened her eyes, realization dawning. “He didn’t defend himself because he was too focused on Padme. _Thinking_ about Padme. I was able to cut his hand off because he was too busy fawning over _a_ _girl_?”

Obi-Wan reached out and carefully squeezed Ahsoka’s shoulder. “Padme isn’t just any girl to him, young one. He can be blind when it comes to her. The development of that particular weakness was his own doing. But it’s a Force-user’s responsibility to use their abilities to ensure the safety of others, even if those  _ others  _ can usually defend themselves. Everyone needs leniency sometimes. Do you understand?”

“I-I think so.”

“I know Anakin preaches about acting with no delay and having swift reactions, but there’s a difference between hesitation and forethought. It’s okay to read the room before you move.”

“Yes, Master.”

Obi-Wan stood and brushed off his pants, then offered a hand to Ahsoka. “Let’s go check on our boy, yeah?”


	5. A New Speeder

Anakin had to undergo another operation for a new prosthetic arm.

 _“The integrity of the limb has been completely compromised,”_ the healer said, “ _all the way down to where the artificial component meets organic bone. He’s going to need a complete replacement and rewire. But on the bright side, a new model of the original arm has been developed, so he’ll get the better version this time around.”_

Anakin had awoken from the anesthesia and immediately scowled at his replacement. 

“It...It’s _gold,”_ he said tiredly, “Why is it gold? That’s so tacky.”

Obi-Wan scratched at his beard. He’d let it grow out a bit in recent days, his concern for Anakin’s wellbeing outweighing his need to be as well-kept as he usually tried to be. “It’s not too bad.”

Ahsoka, currently in the chair on the other side of Anakin’s bed, tilted her head like a curious Loth-cat. “It’s not _all_ gold. Just the fingertips. And a bit of the palm. And most of the tendons.”

Anakin threw his head back into his pillow. “It’s tragically awful. Now I’ll have to get new gloves with gold buckles instead of silver.”

“Why do the buckle colors matter?” Obi-Wan asked. “Nobody sees the hand under the glove. Why do they need to match?”

“It’s the principle of the matter, Master.”

“How does it feel?” Ahsoka asked. “The new hand.” She’d been doing her best to go about her duties as a padawan, training on her own, patrolling the city, whatever she was told to do. But Obi-Wan could feel her regret through their Force bond like a headache. Day in and day out, she was wallowing in her own sorrow. He felt sorry for her, to a degree, knew how sorry _she_ was about what she’d done. But she had to learn eventually that mistakes, even big ones, are often made and can’t be used as an excuse to mope around. 

There were still sutures in the upper part of his arm, thick white bandaging hiding them from view, but most of the new arm was exposed to the air. The small, wiry tendons within the arm pulled and released as Anakin moved each of his new fingers in turn. “Smoother, I think.” The fingers curled in and became a tight fist. “More sensitive. A benefit of having more artificial nerve endings, I guess. Maybe the newer model was worth it.” His eyes went to Ahsoka’s and a mischievous smile took the place of his previous grimace. “Though, let’s try not to cut this one off, shall we?”

Ahsoka looked away and cleared her throat. “I’ll try my best.”

Anakin’s smile fell. Obi-Wan gave him a nudge through their bond. _Tell her. She needs to hear it. She’s struggling._

Anakin nudged back a little more forcefully, almost as if to say, _I’m struggling too! She cut off my arm!_

Obi-Wan pushed one more time, enough for Anakin to know he meant business, and the younger Jedi conceded. “Ahsoka.”

Her eyes darted his direction, then immediately went back to staring at the floor. 

“Ahsoka, look at me.”

She finally turned toward him, spine a bit straighter than before. 

“I’m not mad at you. You know that, right?”

“But how could you not be? I cut off your arm!”

“ _Almost_ cut off my arm. It was dangling, remember? And it was the fake one. No harm, no fowl.”

“Seriously, Master, I really hurt you. How have you not tried to trade me off to another Knight already?”

“Because I understand that sometimes plans don’t, well, _go as planned._ I know you never meant to hurt me. My own lack of focus was my undoing.”

“But _Master_ -”

“But Nothing. This is the end of the discussion. I’m not mad, and you’re off the hook. Any more talk of it and I’ll have you mucking the bantha stables on our next mission. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan scoffed. “I really did raise you, didn’t I?”

Anakin paid him no mind _. “Do you understand?”_

Ahsoka nodded calmly, smoothly, as if an invisible weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “Yes, Master. I understand.”

“Then it’s settled. You owe me a new speeder.”

 _“A new speeder?_ You said it was settled! And you very well know that Jedi don’t get paid! I have no credits to buy a speeder-”

“Anakin, really. Can you stop being terrible for one minute? You’re giving the poor girl a heart attack.”

“You know I can’t resist a good scare, Obi-Wan.”


End file.
